


Another Eternity

by ChocolateCannibal, TsundereSasuke (ChocolateCannibal)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Modern AU, Romance, Slice of Life, just read it, literally so saccharine you will need to make a dental appointment afterwards, probably too many metaphors, they're kids they grow up they fall in love you know the drill, we're talking cavities and root canals and pain meds for days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCannibal/pseuds/ChocolateCannibal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCannibal/pseuds/TsundereSasuke
Summary: It was a mundane moment, completely in the ordinary, nothing special about it. For some reason, Sasuke never wanted it to end, so he closed his eyes to let the memory seep through his skin and sear itself in his mind.





	1. Pinwheels and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Mood music: Groceries by Mallrat.
> 
> Title is the same as the album, 'Another Eternity' by Purity Ring.

When he was eleven years old, Sasuke went grocery shopping with Iruka and Naruto.  
  
He remembered using a hand crank to roll down the car window. An upbeat 80’s pop song hummed with the wind over a faint whoosh of static. The smell of summer, warm, sweet, and fleeting, filled his lungs. Beside him, Naruto bounced in his seat as he babbled excitedly. His eyes shone in the rear view mirror, glowing brighter than the headlights of the cars passing by. 

Vinyl stuck to Sasuke’s bare neck as he leaned back on the headrest, comfortable knowing that Naruto didn’t mind if he was only half listening. It was a mundane moment, completely in the ordinary, nothing special about it. For some reason, Sasuke never wanted it to end, so he closed his eyes to let the memory seep through his skin and sear itself in his mind, before allowing his thoughts to drift to a darker place.  
  
Car rides with his own family went differently. Fugaku never played music, Mikoto complained about her ever-present headache when anyone rolled the window down (though Sasuke never understood how those two things connected) and Itachi either stayed home or stayed perfectly silent. Sasuke had to sit still, out of sight and out of mind, while his parents discussed the economy and pretended he didn’t exist. 

Blood, family, a shared name—they should mean something, right? Eyes still closed, Sasuke traced the red and white fan embroidered on his hoodie, blunt nails running over the ridges between the threads. The Uchiha crest, though no one knew what it represented anymore; time stripped the symbol of meaning, turning it to an anchor without weight.

His hand stilled on the cloth, pressing, trying to find a connection, as he compared how he felt at home, next to a mother who shared his eyes even as she looked right through him and the father who stole his joy, with what he felt for Naruto, who could never be mistaken for his brother, and Iruka who stood apart from them both. No blood between them, but friendship and good humor filled the empty spaces.

Maybe it was wrong, but Sasuke desperately wished he had a real family, not just one that shared a name and sigil; a real home like the one Naruto took for granted. He pushed down the ugly feeling that twisted his stomach and opened his eyes. Naruto poked his cheek.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
He was, and he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t know where to begin explaining the mess inside his mind even if he wanted to. Other eleven-year-old boys were preoccupied with Beyblades and trading stickers at recess.

Sasuke wished he was a little stupider.

Naruto poked him again.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

Naruto rolled his eyes and swung his legs, deliberately kicking the back of Iruka’s seat. Iruka threatened to ground him. Naruto played dumb. Sasuke decided he’d rather not be stupid(er) after all.  
  
The parking lot was mostly empty when they rolled in. By the time Sasuke unbuckled his seatbelt, Naruto had bolted out of the car and rushed to his side to pull the door open. He bounced on his toes, grinned ear to ear, and offered his hand. Sasuke scoffed, but took it anyway, and let Naruto pull him across the cracked pavement. They ran with white street lamps streaking above, the flashing lights of Naruto’s Sketchers below, and crossed the street without looking both ways. 

  
“Be careful!” Iruka shouted behind them, then dropped his keys and accidentally set off the car alarm. Naruto threw his head back and laughed. Sasuke bit his lip, but a feather-light warmth expanded inside him, and unlike that ugly feeling from earlier he couldn’t push it down, so he laughed too. Iruka tried to scold them despite being out of breath from his thirty-second jog to the front of the store, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. Naruto only laughed harder, sinking to his knees, and pulled Sasuke down to the cold, rough concrete with him. He didn’t even know why they were laughing anymore, only that he couldn’t stop.

Inside the store, Sasuke sat in the shopping cart.

“Is this allowed?”

“Relax you big chicken. Your dad’s out of town, so he can’t arrest you,” Naruto said.

Sasuke looked at Iruka.

“Really, Sasuke, it’s fine.”

Naruto stood on the bar in front of the handle, eyes sparkling as he grinned down at Sasuke. Iruka pretended to strain as he pushed the cart. “You kids are too big for this. Look, the cart’s falling apart!” he said, and again, even though it wasn’t that funny, Sasuke smiled.

Everything was a negotiation; if Naruto wanted Cocoa Puffs, he had to put the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos back. For every cup of Ramen, he needed to eat five pieces of broccoli. The only exception was Coke; Iruka’s eyes glazed over as he looked off into the distance, remembering something truly terrifying. Distantly, Sasuke could hear gunshots, screams, and breaking glass. Naruto, who bounced on the balls of his feet and always did everything too fast, too loud, and too much, was basically a whole pack of Mentos.

Mentos and coke do not mix.

“But dad,” Naruto whined, clutching the edge of Iruka’s t-shirt and pouting.

“No.”

“Then can we get something else at checkout?”

“Sure, fine, just stop looking at me like that.”

Unsurprising that Iruka couldn’t stomach a simple pout from Naruto; last week, Sasuke burst into tears during one of Fugaku’s angry tirades. His father told him to shut up, his mother told him to listen to his father, and Itachi was out with his friends. Sasuke climbed out of the shopping cart. The cashier, a tired-looking teenage girl around Itachi’s age, asked if they’d like their milk in a bag. Red marks, indentations from the narrow metal bars, criss-crossed the exposed skin Sasuke’s calves. His stomach twisted. It was almost over. He didn’t want to go home tonight, or tomorrow, or ever again.

Naruto stood in front of a magazine rack. He wandered off towards the greeting cards, and stopped in front of the paper pinwheels. Even on his tipy-toes, he couldn’t reach the fourth shelf, so he asked a passing stranger for help. He came back with one orange, and one blue pinwheel, handing the second to Sasuke. The cashier didn’t charge them for their plastic souveniers. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Sasuke forced a smile of his own and said, “thank you,” first to her, then to Iruka, who replied, “it’s my pleasure,” before ruffling Sasuke’s hair.

On the way home- or, on the way to Naruto’s single-story house, old, creaky, and build on the wrong side of the tracks- Sasuke looked down at the miniature windmill on his lap. He blew on it softly. It turned. When he blinked, he saw a blade with four points, opening like a flower in a misty battlefield.

The moment passed, and he was back in the car, watching wires between the telephone poles ripple and cross, but never touch.

* * *

It was the summer before seventh grade. Standing in the same grocery store where he saw Sasuke laugh, smile, and sit in a shopping cart for the very first time, Naruto tightened his grip on a transparent packet. The stars wrapped in cellophane were flimsy, fake, and barely let off any light. With a frown, he shook his head and stood on his toes to put them back where they belonged. His best friend deserved a better gift than the glow in the dark stars from the supermarket.

“I hate this town,” Sasuke had said, looking up at the sky, “you can’t even see the stars from the forest, and the sun is always too bright.”

“It’s not so bad. That one’s really pretty,” Naruto pointed at a bright red and white cluster of lights.

“Dumbass, that’s an airplane. I need to get out of here.” But Sasuke remained laying on the roof. When Naruto realized his best friend was talking about Konoha, he felt a little queasy.

A firefly landed on Naruto’s knee, twinkling gold, a bright stain on his sun-bronzed skin. He held his breath as he slowly moved his hands to cup it inside. Light dropped through the cracks between his fingers. Taking great care not to crush the life in his hands, Naruto sat up.  
  
“Remember how you told me that some stars are dead even though we can see them, and that stars aren’t even alive to begin with?”  
  
Sasuke sat up too, crossed his legs, and tilted his head. The corners of lips tilted as well, landing halfway between a smile and a smirk.  
  
“I’m surprised you remember that much, or that you were paying attention at all.”  
  
Naruto always paid attention when it came to his precious people, but Sasuke didn’t need to know that.  
  
“Here,” he held out his cupped palms, “it’s better than all the stars and airplanes put together because it’s alive, and you can actually touch it. There are enough fireflies in Konoha to make up for the stars you can’t see, so stop sulking.”  
  
_And stay._  
  
Sasuke’s gaze flickered from Naruto’s outstretched hands to the night sky and back. Their eyes locked. No words passed in the silence between them, but Sasuke reached out; the barest touch on Naruto’s skin. “Let it go,” he murmured, sounding tired and distant. An invisible hand reached into Naruto’s chest and squeezed tight. The crushing grip was a cruel contrast to the gentle grasp of his own palms; whoever that hand belonged to didn’t seem to care about his beating heart or the life that it sustained. Still, Naruto opened his hands, feeling the cool air rush inside and the subtle warmth of Sasuke’s touch. Together, they watched the firefly, a living star, flutter into the night.   
  
“I’ll find something better,” Naruto said, “I promise.”  
  
_So don’t leave me behind._

That’s why for the past three weeks of summer break, Naruto chased dust bunnies with Iruka’s bright red vaccum cleaner, pretending it was actually a fire truck. The dirt collected in the corners of his house became deadly flames, and the money his father gave him was actually a certificate for his courageous deeds as the hero of Konoha.

In the evenings, Naruto mowed lawns and prayed the partial hearing loss wouldn’t be permanent. Roaring with all the fury of a caged beast, the lawnmower was a dragon, flying high above the earth as it razed forests and terrorized villages at its master’s command. Naruto was a hero in the living room and a warlock in the midday sun. His magic potion (orange Gatorade) saved him from death by dehydration changed the color of his tongue to match his braces and all his favorite outfits, which was pretty friggin awesome.

All in all, the chores weren’t so bad, but they left little time for anything else.

When Kiba invited Naruto to a waterballon fight by the quarry, Naruto said no, and it was easy. He had work to do.

When Shino and Hinata wanted his help luring fireflies into mason jars, Naruto said no, and it was easy. The Sarutobis’ gutters weren’t gonna unclog themselves.

When Sakura invited him to eat ice-cream and try on different flavored lip gloss with Ino, Naruto said no, but he had to hesitate. Saying no to his future wife (whether she knew it yet or not) made his stomach flip, and not in a good way. ‘Bros before hoes,’ Naruto reminded himself, not that Sakura was a hoe. Or that there’s anything wrong with being a hoe, per say. He cleaned the Hyuugas’ pool, and only gagged a little at the sight of used Band-Aids and dead bugs.

One sweltering Tuesday afternoon, when he flung the door open on his way to weed old man Teuichi’s lawn, Naruto came face to face with a black hole; a singularity pulling every photon of light into a dark, endless abyss.

Wait. It was just Sasuke.

A dense cloud chose that moment to pass over the sun, darkening the world like a partial eclipse. Railroad tracks rattled in the distance as a train rolled through. Naruto heard the train horn and saw a mostly clear blue sky, but he could swear that thunder rumbled in the distance. ‘Sasuke, take it down a notch. I can’t weed people’s lawns if your bad mood fucks up the weather,’ was what he would say if he wanted a fateful of fist. Most days, he enjoyed getting Sasuke riled up, but they hadn’t seen each other all month. A little voice in Naruto’s head, his ‘only lonely brain cell,’ as Sasuke liked to call it, whispered that now was _not_ the time.

So, Naruto beamed his sunniest, most disarming grin and said, “Hey bastard, you’re back!”

Sasuke crossed his arms, muggy and foreboding like the air before a summer shower; familiar in a way that only widened Naruto’s grin.

“I’ve been back for two weeks. Where were you, dumbass?”

Saving up money to buy the stars for you, Naruto thought, biting the inside of his cheeks. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “Why don’t you tell me where _you_ went first, bastard?” He leaned in, jabbing a finger at the thick black cloth covering Sasuke’s chest. “What kind of freak goes on vacation to Suna and comes back without a tan?!”

“Once again, it’s been _two weeks_ since I came back.” He crossed his arms, covered by oversized sleeves that only left his fingertips visible. Only a few chips of nailpolish, dark purple verging on black, remained. Sasuke kept it, though, maybe because Naruto was the one to paint them.

“…the tan obviously faded,” Sasuke muttered, curling his hands so no skin showed.

Naruto snorted at the bold-faced lie. They both knew about Sasuke’s deathly aversion to daylight.

“Sorry I missed out on your bitching about the evils of the sun.” As well as the opportunity to poke Sasuke’s sunburns and cackle when his skin changed from lobster red to catfish white in a span of seconds. The way Sasuke always gritted his teeth and pretended not to be in pain never failed to brighten Naruto’s entire existence. “It’s just been really, really uh… Oh, y’know. Busy.”

Sasuke snorted. “You’ve been busy? Doing what?”

“Stuff.”

“…stuff.”

“It’s, um, personal?”

“I see. And where are you going now?”

“Just… A place to do an activity. With people,” he tacked on for good measure, wondering why his stupid stomach did the flippy-thing again. Really, there was no reason to feel guilty when he spoke truth, even if he left a few details out.

“Naruto, shut the door! You’re letting all the air out,” Iruka hollered from the living room, loud enough to force a flinch from Naruto and make Sasuke take a step back.

“Sorry, dad!” Naruto hollered back before slamming the door shut behind him. One last pleasant whoosh of cool air, and then the summer heat slammed into him with all the subtlty of an icecream truck. Already sweating, Naruto ducked around Sasuke, inching one foot towards the street so he could turn and bolt if things took a turn for the violent. “Listen Sas’, I gotta go because the thing where, uh.“ The expression on Sasuke’s face silenced whatever excuse Naruto tried to make. Naruto’s stomach dropped when he realized that somehow, in his carelessness, he sailed from a deadly storm to an even deadlier calm. He found himself in the eye of hurricane Uchiha; a deceptive stillness surrounded by death on all sides. Naruto only ever saw that look on Sasuke’s face when Fugaku came around. The wrongness of it, the way Sasuke frosted over as if his soul bled out, always made Naruto shiver.

Now, the same frigid expression stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, like that time he licked a flagpole in the winter on a dare. He knew then with every atom of his only lonely brain cell, that he needed to speak now or forever hold his peace. By the time his tongue came unstuck, it was already too late.

“Fine. I get it. Goodbye.”

No ‘dobe,’ no ‘usuratonkachi,’ not even a wave. Sasuke just shoved his hands in his pocket and brushed past him, not reacting when the sprinklers turned on and drenched the lower half of his emo skinny jeans. With his receding presence, the cloud eclipsing the sun drifted away, letting it shine as brightly as before. Naruto frowned. As usual, he didn’t know how or why he’d fucked up, but he had a sinking feeling it would be a while before his own personal rain cloud came around again.


	2. Crappy Birthday

Summer sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains in the kitchen, catching on Fugaku’s reading glasses, painting the steam swirling from his coffee gold. Newspaper crinkled in his calloused hands. Sasuke lingered in the shadows, watching the shift in his mother’s back as she sliced vegetables. The knife tapped against the cutting board, scraping against the dull, empty silence.

Sasuke wondered if they could hear him, see him, feel him standing there, or if he was just a ghost, dead to the world. His voice caught in his throat. Fugaku turned another page. Mikoto wiped her hands on her apron. The moment passed, and he gathered just enough courage to address the carpet. “I don’t want a party this year. No presents, either,” he said, head down, hands balled inside his pockets.

His mother protested half-heartedly and his father barely spared a glance before returning to the newspaper. No one asked him why, not that he expected them to.

Birthdays were stupid. Sasuke didn’t need a party to validate the unfortunate fact of his existence, something the mirror did every day. If he was a ghost, he wouldn't have a reflection; he’d be weightless and restless. Translucent, but unburdened. Instead, on the cusp of turning thirteen, Sasuke felt... tired. The decade he could remember had been long, tedious, and disappointing. The years ahead would probably be more so. Other kids liked birthdays because they had things they wanted, reasons to celebrate.

That morning, standing just outside the kitchen, with the two people who brought him into the world though they seemed to forget his existence on the best of days, Sasuke realized he didn’t care that he had been born, that he was alive, or that he’d be another year closer to death next week. Why should he, when it didn’t matter to his parents, Itachi, or- faltering on the last step, grip tightening on the mahogany banister, Sasuke grit his teeth.

Even Naruto finally got bored of him.

Whatever. He hated cake, crowds, and kazoos. He looked forward to sleeping in, spending the day at the library, and trying not to think about the broken condom he came from, or the broken home he’d have to go back to.

That was the plan, anyway.

On July 23rd, at the ass crack of dawn, Sasuke found himself standing on the driveway, barefoot and shivering. A neon-green convertible idled in front of him. Inside, Uchiha Madara peered at him over the rim of his bedazzled Gucci sunglasses.

“Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.”

The diamond stud in his eyebrow caught the sun as it peaked over the horizon, bright enough to make Sasuke squint.

"Huh?"

Madara reached over and opened the passenger side door.

"You've seen Mean Girls, haven't you?"

“Yes.” His breath came out in a white puff. Madara waggled his eyebrows. Sasuke wondered if the numbness in his arm was from the cold or an impending stroke, because what the fuck; why was _the_ richest and most notorious citizen of Konoha in his driveway at 6am, quoting Regina George and demanding that Sasuke ‘go with him?’

And where? Probably to the woods as a human sacrifice. Rich people were into that sort of thing. Considering Madara’s collection of skulls, shrunken heads, and animal skins, a Satanic ritual here and there was par for the course. Sasuke flexed his tingling fingers, then breathed on them. Was he prepared to die? Madara revved the engine, a roar that matched his lion’s mane hair; Sasuke flinched. 

“C’mon kid, piss or get off the pot.”

Sasuke got into the car and shut the door.

"Took you long enough," Madara grumbled. He pulled a cigarette carton out of his snakeskin vest, taking one for himself and offering another to Sasuke.

"I'm thirteen.”

"Yeah, and your dad's a cop, so he can't arrest you. Come on, live a little."

Sasuke pulled his knees up to his chest. He didn’t take the cigarette.

"Eh, suit yourself. I’ll never understand kids these days. At your age, I already had my first line of coke- uh, I mean credit. Shit." He fumbled with the lighter. Sasuke discretely pinched his own leg.

Nope, definitely not a dream.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.

"Probably not," Madara replied, "but if you think there's a chance, you can go back inside."

Sasuke shrugged; he honestly couldn't care less.

"Where are we going?"

Instead of answering, Madara backed out of the driveway with a screech. He flashed a wicked grin, golden canine glittering like fire, and fixed his gaze on the horizon.

"I told you, we're going shopping."

* * *

Itachi took one look at the kid standing on his front porch, power drill in one hand as he balanced a battered card box against his hip, and felt his migraine intensify.

“We don’t want any cookies,” he said, and shut the door, ignoring the muffled “Hey!” as he trudged upstairs to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

Itachi ignored the doorbell when it rang for five minutes straight, even though shoving his face in the pillow did nothing to muffle the noise. How was this his problem. Just because Madara showed up out of the blue and kidnapped Sasuke while their negligent parents went on yet _another_ trip to god knows where…

The ringing stopped. Minutes passed in blissful silence. Just as his eyes fluttered shut, something tapped against his window. Itachi lifted his head; pebbles. The kid was throwing rocks at his window.

It was a pleasant noise, like the sound of rain. Itachi drifted off.

And woke up to a _thud_ from Sasuke's room, followed by a muffled “Ah! Fuckin’ hell, shit.”

Apparently, his little brother's self-proclaimed 'best friend' found a way in. Itachi rolled onto his back. He glared at the ceiling fan; the blades spun lazily, casting shadows on the walls, hinges clicking like a ticking time bomb. If Naruto wanted to rob their house or play some stupid prank, let him. They had insurance.

Itachi remembered the power drill. He bolted upright, suddenly very, very awake. Knowing what Naruto could do with two thumb-tacks and a rubber band, _this_ could only mean one thing: certain death.

He kicked open the door to Sasuke’s room. “What-“

“First of all,” Naruto glared over his shoulder as he stomped past him towards the stairs, “I’m not a Girl Scout, and we both know I don’t have any cookies to sell, because if I did, I’d eat them. Prick.”

Itachi said nothing; he followed Naruto, who unlocked the front door, stood on his toes to unlatch the deadbolt, and went outside. In his infinite wisdom, Itachi did not close the door behind him.

There was the cardboard box, a metal cylinder, some brushes, and a tattered green backpack bursting at the seams. Itachi watched as Naruto, scrawny, impatient, and clumsy as he was, carried every item over the threshold with meticulous care. Determination burned in his eyes, as bright as the lights on his unlaced sneakers.

“And second,” he continued, handing the final item, The Power Tool of Certain Death, to Itachi, “you’re gonna help me.”

Itachi held the drill as if it were a loaded gun, and knew he didn’t have a choice.

* * *

If bullies were flies, Naruto would be a bloated carcass. By the looks of things, the metaphor would soon become reality. He didn't know why these guys, three highschoolers by the looks of it, hated him so much. Defiance burned in his eyes; fist clenched, teeth gritted against an acrid insult that would only fuel the fire. Naruto didn’t care, not anymore. If they were so determined to hurt him, snuff out a spot of color for staining their cookie-cutter black and white world, he might as well speak his mind.

So, he did.

“You got some nerve,” the short one growled, lip curling into an ugly sneer. A large hand grabbed the front of Naruto’s shirt, pulling him up to his toes before shoving him away twice as hard.

The chainlink fence rattled against his back. Air left his lungs in a hiss. Metal heated by the midday sun burned like a brand. His left eye was slowly swelling shut. The biggest, meanst guy cocked his fist; Naruto spat the blood in his mouth onto the ground and prepared to meet his maker.

"Hey, what're you guys doing?" Words dumped a bucket of ice on the cliché scene. A lone voice, low, soft, with an undercurrent of electricity. The bullies startled, caught and drenched. Naruto craned his neck, but couldn’t see who it was.

"Mind your own business, kid."

"Try taking your own advice, loser," the intruder shot back.

"What'd you call me?!"

"Hey man, cool it," one of them hissed, putting hand on the big one's shoulder, "that's Fugaku's brat."

"Who?"

"The cop, the one that busted my uncle."

"So what? Is he gonna call his daddy? Hey, kid, are you- shit, he's on his phone!"

And just like that, they were gone. A wave of relief washed over Naruto. His knees gave out. He slumped to the ground, breath heavy in his own ears, as rough as the gravel under his legs. Crunching footsteps drew closer; darkness fell over him. Naruto looked up. 

The sun was behind the boy, casting his face into shadow and a lighting halo around his head. He was a tower, a lighthouse, a shining beacon, reaching down from the heavens to offer Naruto his hand. His skin was cold but not clammy, just the slightest hint of a tremor. Staring down three giants would make anyone shake. Naruto let himself be pulled to his feet. From this new vantage, the tower became a boy; still tall, but human, and not much older than himself.

The inches between them made Naruto tilt his head back. Sunlight bleached the sky white, making his eyes hurt, but he refused to blink.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked.

The scrapes on Naruto's palms burned where their skin touched, almost as hot as his cheeks. Breeze rustled through the trees; the leaves murmured a sigh of relief. A dog barked. A child laughed in the distance. Naruto realized he was still holding the other boy's hand. He dropped it and took half a step back.

"Did you hit your head?" Concern, not condescension, as his head tipped to the side, making black bangs shift against a pale cheek. Although lots of people asked Naruto that exact question before, none of them meant it like this. Why...

Naruto shook his head, _no,_ he was fine, and his gaze flickered down, fixed on his own bloody knees.

"Can you talk?"

Blue eyes snapped up. Arms crossed, he took another half-step back.

"Of course I can talk. What's it to you?"

The boy shrugged; hands shoved in his pockets, popscicle-cool despite the blistering midday sun and a navy blue hoodie that must be soaking heat like a sponge.

"Why'd you," Naruto trailed off, scuffed his sneakers in the gravel, touched the chain-link fence behind him, fingers curled on the wire. Searching for something to hold on to. "I mean, those guys were," a one-way ticket to the hospital, "nothing. I totally had it under control, y'know!"

The boy raised a brow. The corner of his mouth ticked up. He snorted and shook his head.

Naruto glared.

"What's so funny?"

"I just remembered Finding Nemo, the part where those sharks tried to eat that clown fish. That was you just now."

Well, if the bullies were sharks, that meant-

"What did you call me?"

A pointed took at his orange shirt, white stripes, and black shorts said it all.

"I'm not a clown fish, you, you, uh." He had to think of something good. "You ass-fish!" Nailed it.

"Ass fish. Right. I'll be going, then."

The boy turned to leave. Something seized in Naruto's chest. He didn't need any help, not from a jerk like that, but. But.

"Wait."

A pause. The boy didn't turn around, but tilted his head, only his cheek and the corner of his mouth visible.

"I'm uh, I'm Naruto."

"Nice to meet you, 'uh I'm Naruto.'"

He smirked and walked away, leaving Naruto sputtering and red-faced. 'Eat my dust,' the boy seemed to say, and Naruto could taste sand under the blood in his mouth.

Every time he looked at the band-aids on his knees, every time a cloud passed over the sun, Naruto thought about him, and wondered; cool, pale skin, darkness against light. A hand that reached right into his chest and pulled him to his feet, only to knock the wind out of him with nothing more than blunt words and a sharp look. Even though he had a lot of growing up to do, being the shortest kid in his grade and all, no one ever made Naruto feel small before that day. He hated that feeling, and hated the guy who caused it with a passion. Too bad he missed the chance to mash that smug smirk into a brick wall. Konoha wasn't exactly a small town; maybe he was just visiting, passing through like so many graffiti-covered train cars, rattling the tracks and leaving nothing but smoke in their wake.

Something precious slipped through his fingers that day. Naruto tried not to think about it when he’d pass the playground on the way to Sakura's house, glance at the empty swings through the cobwebs on the chain-link fence, and itch for another chance. Feeling stupid, he'd shake his head and keep walking. The memory stuck like gum on the bottom of his shoe, but he thought about it less and less as summer came to an end; playing fetch with Akamaru, mixing cookie dough with his dad, flattening pennies on railroad tracks with Chouji and Shikamaru.

Each moment was precious, like the fireflies flickering in the sunset. Blink or hesitate, and they'll blend into the horizon, never to be seen again.

"And then school started," Naruto said around the nail between his teeth, palm held out to Itachi, who handed him a hammer. "The teacher put us next to each other because of our last names: Uchiha and Uzumaki. He got a seat next to the window, stared outside all day, and still never got a question wrong. When I tried talking to him, he didn't even remember me."

Itachi chuckled. "Is that what you think?"

Naruto paused. There it was again, the same itch under his skin. Sand through his fingers, a trickle through an hourglass. Sasuke wasn’t easy to grasp in any sense of the word.

On the first day of school, he thought Sasuke waved at him. Giddy but hopeful, Naruto raised his own hand, only to turn back and see that Sasuke was looking at someone else. Embarrassment stung him, sudden and sharp like barb-wire. He dropped his hand, ducked his head, and accidentally ran into the girl’s restroom. Inside, pink walls, pink hair, and the red-hot desire to turn invisible threatened to swallow him whole; to this day, Sakura still wouldn't let him live it down.

From the beginning, Naruto had to run to match Sasuke’s walk, had to wave and jump and shout just to be seen. They were in two completely different leagues. Hell, half the time, Naruto wasn't sure if Sasuke even lived on the same planet. Of course someone like that wouldn't remember a nobody like him. 

"I guess back then, he was stopping so many fights he lost track. He still does that, y’know, even with the really scary kids that bring switchblades to school and shit. Stupid bastard was always too cool for his own good." He marked the wood with a pencil and picked up the drill. Itachi tensed, but kept his composure. “Oh, uh, don’t tell him I said that.”

Itachi ‘hn-’ed, which Naruto decided to take as a yes.

"Anyways, that's how we met, and now we're friends."

"Best friends," Itachi corrected.

“Yeah,” he said softly, brightening under the dim light in the attic.

When they finished, a tangled web of wires criss-crossed the floor, some clear, others red and blue. Naruto only cut himself three times and hammered his own thumb just once. When he missed a rung while climbing down the ladder, Itachi was there to catch him.

Naruto opened the windows in Sasuke's room. The sky outside was black, hazy, with a sliver of the new moon grinning at a job well done. Naruto grinned back. The summer air was cool against his sweat-damp skin. He breathed deep, savoring the moment, then turned around to face the silhouette at the door.

"Thanks for the help, Itachi. Uh. Do ya think he'll like it?"

Itachi flipped the switch on and off. If Naruto didn't know any better, he'd think he was impressed. As it was, he just nodded.

"It was fourteen hours well-spent. And I should be thanking you," Itachi said with a sinister gleam in his eye. When Naruto asked why, he muttered something about 'blackmailing his foolish little brother,' then said, "I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up again." The drill in his hand whirred to life for a moment; a threat. Naruto rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I'll leave you alone."

He kicked off his shoes, crawled under Sasuke's covers, and just as his eyes fluttered shut, wondered if it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why madara crashed this fic like the kool-aid man yelling "oh yeah!!", or why he's basically beyonce and tony stark simultaneously,, like how is that even possible,,, what kind of Adult offers a thirteen year old kid a cigarette,,, it seems sasukes life might genuinely be in danger???
> 
> also as usual idk why this took so long, let's blame madara


	3. The Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I kind of listened to while writing this:  
Blue by Eiffel 65  
Doctor Jones by Aqua  
New Romantics by Taylor Swift

A winding dirt road, deeper into the forest than he’d ever gone before. Sasuke tilted his head up and closed his eyes. Faint lights painted the insides of his eyelids crimson; bronze sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, softer than a fire fly’s wing as it brushed his face.

He breathed deeply. Air clean and new, not a hint of the acrid pollution that drifted from the city. 

Opening his eyes, he chanced a glance at Madara. Chipped nail polish, shaped like countries that don’t exist, stained his thick, square fingernails. Sasuke subconsciously picked at his own nails; purple, not black, an unwanted reminder of the friend who abandoned him out of the blue. 

Madara listened to Iruka's favorite radio station. Sasuke wondered if it was an old person thing. He put his feet up on the dashboard and slouched so the wind wouldn't thump in his ears. He watched Madara’s fingers drum against the fur-lined steering wheel. Another quirk that reminded him of Iruka.

No one knew exactly how Madara was related to the Uchihas, though the family resemblance was undeniable. They all called him 'uncle,' except Fugaku, who'd grumble an excuse and leave any time he showed up. 

His mansion at the outskirts of the forest has no known address, and doesn't show up on Google Maps. As far as anyone knew, he didn't have a phone number... or a phone. Every now and then, he'd crash a family reunion or birthday party completely uninvited, like that time he showed up at Shisui's ninth birthday party seven years ago. Madara had juggled five eggs, then smashed one on a table and pulled out a dollar dripping with yolk. He drank a quart of milk in under two minutes as the children watched in awe, put out a cigarette on his own forehead without burning himself, and saluted Shisui's mom when she handed him a crisp $100 bill. They all thought he was the clown hired for entertainment until the doorbell rang and an actual clown showed up. 

At that point, Madara looked the clown up and down, complimented his shoes, adding that "the pair I have at home are bigger," tipped his top-hat, and walked out the door, the spurs on his cowboy boots jingling all the way to his yellow Mustang. Which, it should go without saying, had red and orange flames painted on the sides. 

No one knew how old he was, and when asked, he always replied that he’d turn 35 ”next month.” He carried around a wad of cash instead of a driver’s license and shamelessly bribed any officer who pulled him over. No cop, not even Fugaku, bothered trying to arrest him. Not even when he showed up to a family dinner unannounced covered in blood, with a sawed-off shotgun strapped to his hip, and said he was just "doing a favor for an old friend."

“We’re here,” Madara announced. “Feast your eyes on my humble abode, and savor it; you’re the first one to see this place in ages. Besides the help,” he added, stepping out and crushing a cigarette under his boot.

Somehow, Madara’s mansion was both exactly what Sasuke expected and nothing he could ever have imagined.

“Are you Batman?” Sasuke blurted out.

Madara tilted his sunglasses down.

“In a different life,” he answered after a beat, “perhaps.”

Sasuke unbuckled the seatbelt and shut the car door with his hip. Rough cobblestone dug into his bare feet. He followed Madara up smooth marble steps, marveling at the carved columns on either side of the entrance. Even sitting on Itachi’s shoulders and reaching up, his fingertips wouldn’t reach the top of the doorway. Then again, he thought, neck arched as he peered upward, Itachi hadn’t carried him in years; who knows how tall he’d reach now, and what a poor way to measure the world around him regardless.

Sasuke turned forward and came face to face with a lion. Ruby-red eyes glowered at him from a carved metal face, snout wrinkled in a vicious snarl. Madara reached for the golden ring in its roaring mouth, lifted it, and let it fall with a resounding thud. The door opened into perfect darkness, the kind that shouldn’t be possible in a house with so many windows. Another mystery, Sasuke decided, before steeling himself and stepping into the unknown. 

* * *

Nothing could’ve prepared him for this day, Sasuke decided as he strained to lift the cardboard box. How many hours passed as they sifted through Madara’s dusty heirlooms, he didn’t know. Each antique came with its own story. 

Sasuke stared into the eyes of a porcelain doll, face cracked, hair a tangled brown mass. 

“What about this one?” he asked, reaching to pick it up. Madara snatched it away and put it in the ‘forbidden’ pile, muttering that it probably wasn’t cursed, but better not take chances. Sasuke shivered, more from the sudden chill in the air than any silly superstition. 

“Yeah right,” he scoffed, but accepted the pair of leather gloves ‘for protection.’

Madara didn’t offer much in the way of explanation. Sasuke expected as much. His uncle had flicked on the lights, revealing an interior dripping with red and black. Thick velvet curtains covered every window. A chandelier hung above a winding spiral staircase, seeming to reach higher than the house looked from the outside. Madara nudged Sasuke away from the entrance, where he had been standing slack-jawed and awestruck, and closed the door behind them. 

“C’mon. Thirteen years is long enough; I got some shit to sort through, then you’ll get your present. Here,” Madara said, tossing a pair of boots from the coat closet, “don’t want you getting tetanus.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to ask if there were lots of rusty nails wherever they were going, spotted a pair of hunting rifles crisscrossed over the stone fire place, and decided to say “thanks” instead. 

Now, they were in a room on the third story; peeling wallpaper above paneled walls, furniture covered with white sheets, and a door that locked from the outside, opened just a crack. Madara turned the key -brass, etched with a design straight from one of Sasuke’s favorite fantasy novels- and gestured for Sasuke to follow. 

Thirteen years. Dust filled his lungs. Sasuke sneezed. Madara shushed him. Was this room really locked up for thirteen years? 

Sasuke sifted through the contents of the cardboard box. Black lines, sharpie, marked the outside. Time scrubbed words and meaning away, leaving him to wonder. He flipped open a Manila folder, handling the yellowed pages inside with care, hoping they wouldn’t crumble to nothing. The gloves made him clumsy. Sasuke glanced over his shoulder. Madara was locked in a staring contest with what appeared to be a shrunken head, empty eye sockets, withered lips, stringy hair. What the fuck. Sasuke shrugged and pulled off the gloves. He examined the pages, familiar in a way he couldn’t place. They resembled the paperwork Mikoto filled out when she took him to the doctor’s office, but none of the fields made sense. 

Brown flecks stained the corner of the third page. Sasuke leaned closer. Tendrils stretched outwards from the stains, like dried liquid, and the color...

“Blood,” he whispered, and wished he’d kept the gloves on. 

Madara was speaking about the shrunken head, or maybe to it. Sasuke vaguely registered the word ‘witch’ as he set the folder aside and searched deeper in the box.

“-she was a beautiful woman. White hair, white eyes, white skin. Paler than you, even. Only when you look through the corner of your eyes, you could see them. I really thought I imagined it but-“

Under files stamped with a faded red “CLASSIFIED,” yellowed pages and loose paper clips, Sasuke knew there was something important. Something he had to see. Something just for him.

“-a pair of green horns. Short, two inches at most-“

And there it was, locked in this room filled with curses, mysteries, and blood: a picture of himself. Not as an infant, or a child, and no picture he remembered taking. 

As much as he wanted to hear Madara’s encounter with the white voodoo witch of the woods, this particular mystery could not be ignored. 

“Madara, what is this?”

“It’s not what you think,” his uncle said, face too soft. Voice quiet, hands gentle as he took the picture away. 

The resemblance was not just uncanny; it was absolutely undeniable.

“No, it’s not you. Someone else in our family. He wasn’t the first, though I sincerely hope he will be the last.”

With that cryptic statement, Madara tucked the picture away into his back pocket.

“This isn’t your present, but I did find something you’d like. Open it when you get home.”

A long black rectangle with a handle like a briefcase. Two silver clasps rippled with reflections like oily shadows. Sasuke traced the hard, leathery surface. Like the box full of files, this gift felt familiar in a way he couldn’t place. Madara clapped him on the shoulder. The smile he offered strained at the edges, pulled tight with an emotion Sasuke would only recognize if he was years older and a lifetime wiser. 

“We still have some time to kill before tonight, so let’s go somewhere you’ve never been before.”

* * *

As the sun kissed the horizon, bleeding crimson over the rustling forest, Sasuke let his feet dangle over the edge of the water tower. Leaning back, weight placed on the heels of his hands, he lifted his head and asked, “Is this legal?”

“See any cops or rangers?”

“No.”

Madara took another drag. He flicked the tip of his cigarette, letting the wind carry the embers away, and replied, “then yes, it’s perfectly legal.”

“You’re not supposed to lie to children.”

Not that Sasuke was ever allowed to be a child. Even in his earliest memories, Fugaku stood over him like a giant, “fie fi foe fum” scrawled in the lines of his furrowed brow. Once, in a bout of childish clumsiness, Sasuke had knocked glass over. Spilled milk made something close to terror seize his small, young heart. Fugaku’s voice boomed, crackled and made him flinch. Itachi had stepped in and carried him away. Mikoto only watched.

Children were allowed to make mistakes; Sasuke learned that he had to be absolutely perfect _or else_. He watched Itachi and learned how to move slowly, deliberately, so he’d never make a mess again. 

“You’re technically a teenager, now. ‘sides, I haven’t met any kids who get that look in their eye,” another drag, and Madara tipped his sunglasses down to level a hard stare, “like you’ve been through some shit, and even though you try not to think about it, the memories have a mind of their own.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not supposed lie to your elders,” Madara tossed Sasuke’s words back in his face, then tossed the cigarette butt over the railing, not considering the consequences whatsoever. 

Sasuke needed to fix that. He swung his legs away from the edge and started to climb the ladder down.

“Where’s the fire?” Madara called after him. Sasuke nearly missed a rung and resolutely refused to look down. Chipped paint, a shade lighter than the rust that clung to it, scraped against the soft skin on his hands. One of the leather boots came untied and fell down, sending a jolt through his chest. 

Sasuke stopped. Eyes squeezed shut. He wasn’t afraid of falling, or getting hurt, but dreaded hearing what his father might say if he ever dared to break a bone. 

Every other step dug into his shoeless foot until it finally touched the supple forest floor.   
He found the fallen boot near the still fuming cigarette. Hopped on one foot to put the boot on, then stomped on the embers in the dry grass until they died away. 

“That,” Sasuke snapped at Madara, who came down after him, “that’s the fire. You could’ve burned the forest down.” 

“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” Madara asked with a raised brow.

Sasuke wanted to punch him. 

“Calm down, Smoky Bear. If this place could be destroyed so easily, it would’ve been wiped off the map years ago.”

He didn’t know how to explain it, but Sasuke understood. The inexplicable urge to either leave Konoha, along with everyone and everything in it so far behind, he’d never have to see it again; an itch to watch the cookie-cutter houses, cracked sidewalks, and graffiti-infested brick walls crumble to ash. To watch this forest, with its towering trees like prison bars, go up in an endless blaze. Strange desire crept through the cracks in his nightmares, as if from another life. Until that moment, he thought he was the only one. 

He met Madara’s eyes under the last gasp of a dying day and swore he saw red. 

“I don’t know about destroying this place,” Sasuke said when the silence stretched thin enough the snap, “but if you hate it so much, maybe you can just leave.”

“If only life were that simple. Let’s not linger here, though. I think you’ll like where we’re going next-“

Sasuke opened his mouth.

“-don’t worry, I won’t drag you to the wrong side of the law again.”

They drove to the city almost two hours out. Sasuke still in his pyjamas, slouching and self-conscious. The tall buildings and busy people didn’t seem to care. They parked in front of a stadium. A crowd of mostly teenage girls, maybe a few mothers with their young children, shuffled through the entrance. Realization hit him, and suddenly Sasuke’s heart beat in his ears.

Madara knew his secret.

“Who told you?”

“Itachi.”

“But how- the tickets- she’s been sold out for months!”

“These aren’t just ordinary concert tickets, kid. Here, put this on.” He opened the glove compartment and tossed a lanyard on Sasuke’s lap. 

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Yes, way. Believe it,” Madara pushed his sunglasses back to rest on his head. Sasuke frowned, reminded of a certain someone who decided to leave him behind, then shook his head.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Let’s just have a good time.”

Surrounded by blinding lights and words that spoke to his soul, Sasuke found himself swaying with the music. He sang with her, a stranger with long blond hair and bright blue eyes, tall, graceful, and utterly fearless. Madara sang along next to him. They cheered, surrounded by strangers. At some point she crouched down and reached into the crowd, close enough to touch, until their fingertips actually brushed. 

Then, she beamed a smile more dazzling than the spotlight behind her and winked. Right at him. 

Sasuke nearly fainted. 

Also, he was never washing his hand again.

The rest of the concert etched itself into a small corner of his mind, a treasure chest for a handful of precious memories. Filed by person, Sasuke could count the pieces of his heart on one hand. Itachi would always have a piece; they used to be inseparable before he left Sasuke for Shisui and his gang of colorful delinquents. 

His parents each has a piece. When Sasuke was very young and a stranger tried to steal him away, only to be confronted by an infuriated Fugaku and ruthless Mikoto. The near-kidnapping was a nightmare, but when Mikoto held him as she sobbed into his hair, Sasuke felt wanted. 

Maybe they did love him, but forgot the meaning of the word. 

And Naruto...

Sasuke kept those memories in a golden box, the largest one, easy to reach on cold lonely nights. They would have to be discarded eventually, the same way Naruto discarded him. He clutched the fabric over his chest, then let it go and smoothed it down; he never offered a fragment of his shattered heart to Naruto. The idiot barged in and snatched the biggest piece for himself without even asking.

Was there anything left to give?

Sasuke glanced at Madara. 

“Something on your mind?”

“You’re driving too fast. If you crash the car, we’re both dead.”

“That’s what seatbelts are for.”

Madara wasn’t wearing his. Sasuke sighed. Another piece, now in possession this lunatic. 

He leaned his forehead on the window and let the city lights blur together, then peter out as they entered the forest. One day, when he left Konoha, Sasuke planned to abandon his heart and all the jagged shards behind with their respective owners. If he went a thousand miles away from that weak, wretched thing in his chest, maybe it won’t be able to hurt him anymore. 

* * *

  
“You’re back late,” Itachi commented as he stepped aside to let Sasuke inside.

“Hn.”

Itachi waved at Madara. 

Madara honked and revved his engine. Sasuke jolted, startled. 

They watched red taillights streak into the distance, disappearing with a screech when Madara made a hard left. No turn signal, no deceleration; the car balanced on two wheels for one precarious moment, bouncing dangerously when it landed.

Sasuke’s eye twitched.

“Happy birthday, little brother,” Itachi said as he locked the deadbolt. 

“Whatever.”

“Here. It’s from... all of us.” Meaning his parents, too.

Sasuke took the envelope full of cash— the lest personal gift anyone could give, and tried to force a smile. 

“Goodnight, Itachi.” He picked up Madara’s other birthday present by the handle and walked up stairs.

“What’s in that box?”

“Just a nunya.”

“Nunya...”

“Nunya business,” Sasuke called back over his shoulder.

Truth be told, he was exhausted. He’d open Madara’s other present -from the mysterious room full of curses objects- later. Or maybe never. 

He didn’t bother turning on the light or changing before collapsing on the bed. 

“Ow.”

“What the- Naruto?”

“Hey Sasuke, where were you?”

Their foreheads collided hard. Iridescent blue eyes blinked at him in the silvery moonlight. Sasuke sat back on his heels and crossed his arms. 

“Where was _I_?”

Naruto sat up. Yawned, stretched, and tilted his head, apparently waiting for an answer. Sasuke glared.

“The implied question is where were _you_ for the past month? Idiot, I thought- I thought you. Are we even friends anymore? Why are you in my room?”

“Sasuke I told you, I was busy. Look, can you save the drama for five minutes? I got your birthday present.”

“So that’s the weird smell.”

“Yeah, it’s paint. Shit! Don’t make me ruin the surprise. Close your eyes. Uh, please.”

“Promise me this isn’t going to be another dumb prank.”

“I promise,” Naruto grabbed Sasuke’s hand and hooked their fingers together. A gesture learned from Iruka, though Naruto didn’t explain what it meant and Sasuke never bothered to ask.

“Fine.” He closed his eyes. 

A rustle and a thump; Naruto’s foot tangled in the sheets, tripping him as he left the bed. Rushed footsteps followed by the click of a light switch. 

“Okay, you can look now.”

If Sasuke didn't know any better, he'd think someone rolled back the roof; like a divine hand peeled back the thin violet veil of pollution that stained Konoha’s atmosphere. The night sky, thousands of stars in the white spill of the milky way, twinkled above him. The stars were close enough to fall on him, close enough to finally touch. Bright, winking like they wanted to share the secrets of the universe, put in the ceiling to shine just for him. 

"What do you think?" Naruto asked, head turned towards Sasuke, gaze heavy on his burning cheeks. 

"You did this?"

"I had a little help, but yeah. It was mostly me."

"Naruto," water welled in his eyes made the lights blur, streaking into four points like the shuriken from his most vivid dreams. Sasuke clenched the sheets between his fingers. His chest felt heavy, heavier than when he thought Naruto left him behind. 

"Yeah? Is it not- I mean, I know they're not the real thing, but the other day,” his voice dropped low, “you- you talked about how you couldn't see the stars from Konoha, and it seemed to bother you a lot, and I know its not your birthday anymore but-" 

"Thank you."

Naruto looked up from his own feet. Whatever he saw in Sasuke’s expression left him wide-eyed, frozen solid. Before he could stop himself, Sasuke stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Naruto’s shoulders. Warm, gentle silence settled around them. A lone cricked chirped outside. Cool breeze rustled the curtains and combed through Sasuke’s hair with soft, invisible fingers. He thought he could hear a heartbeat if he listened closely, and wondered who it belonged to. 

This morning, he had wondered if he was a ghost. Now, he wondered at being alive; at how a day he dreaded brimmed with possibility, returned what he thought he lost, and gave him more than he could even imagine asking for. 

“You’re really short,” Sasuke said, because the top of Naruto’s head barely reached his chin. 

“I’m catching up,” was Naruto’s muffled response as he awkwardly tried to return the hug. Which was weird. They didn’t do this, ever. Sasuke pulled away. 

He felt cold.

“You can borrow some clothes since you’re sleeping over.”

“No, it’s okay-“

“Naruto, you’re really sweaty.”

“Hey!” He lifted his arm and sniffed. “Oh.”

As Sasuke rifled through his dresser, Naruto asked, “seriously, where did you go today?”

They didn’t keep many secrets, but Naruto didn’t know that Sasuke was a Taylor Swift fan, and he wouldn’t believe Madara was a real person unless he could see for himself. 

“... I don’t want to talk about it.”

Some things were better left a mystery, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk so this was supposed to be a Serious Emotional fic and then Madara happened,, it was fun to write tho


	4. All Good Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs to fit The Vibe  
Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift (I'm not sorry lol)  
Apollo by Magic Man  
Jump On My Shoulders by AWOLNATION  
Not Your Fault by AWOLNATION
> 
> sorry for typos. post first, edit later, we live and die like men of valor.
> 
> edit: changed some stuff to help the flow

“See me after class,” the teacher said. Naruto didn’t need to look at the test to know he failed again. He crumpled it up and shoved it in his bag. 

When the lunch bell rang, he bolted out the door, skittered on the linoleum as he swerved away from the cafeteria, and kept running until he reached the playground. A lone tree stood by the chain link fence. Hanging the rope swing no one used because the branch always creaked and threatened to snap. Naruto panted, stumbling the last few steps behind the tree before crumbling forward. 

Knees hugged tight to his burning chest, face hidden from the world, he let the tears fall.

No wonder Sakura barely tolerated him. Of course Shikamaru rolled his eyes every time he talked. And Iruka, who believed in him, encouraged him, stood up for him when he didn’t deserve it- Iruka would be too nice about this. 

Naruto couldn’t deal with that. 

And the worst part was they all thought he failed because he didn’t try, but-

“Hey.”

Oh no.

“Go-“ hiccup “go ‘way.”

“People are looking for you.”

“I don’t want anyone to look at me. Go _ away _.”

Naruto squeezed his eyes tight and held his breath. He heard footsteps crunching in the gravel followed by silence. Sasuke left, and Naruto’s tears welled up again. The recess bell rang, cafeteria doors unleashed the floodgate or shouting children. He scrubbed at his eyes, furiously willing the disappointment away. 

“Stop it,” he whispered to himself, “just stop. Stupid.”

“Drink some water.”

Naruto froze, then slapped his hands over his face and peaked through the cracks between his fingers. 

Muffled, he rasped, “What the hell, I told you to leave me alone.”

“Is this about the test? I overheard the teacher tell you to see her.” Because Sasuke sat in front of him in class and always observed more than he ever let on.

“Yeah, Uchiha. Laugh it up. I failed again and this time I actually tried. So now they’re gonna call Iruka and hold me back a grade and I’ll be that weird older kid with no friends because- hey!”

Sasuke reached into Naruto’s backpack (half-open as usual because the zipper broke and they couldn’t afford a new one yet) and pulled out a ball of paper. Naruto would have to uncover his face to snatch it back. He couldn’t bear _ that _ guy of all people seeing his pathetic red eyes, puffy face, and blotchy cheeks. Instead, he watched through trembling fingers as Sasuke unfolded the test .

“Wow.”

“That bad, huh.”

“You haven’t even looked at it.”

“No...”

“Hm. You really are an idiot.”

“Way to kick a guy while he’s down, asshole.”

Sasuke turned the paper around and showed it to Naruto, who promptly shut his eyes. 

“Naruto-“

“You know my name?”

“-you passed.”

“Liar.”

“She wrote, ‘great improvement.’ And there’s even a gold star.”

“What? No way! Gimme, gimme!”

Tears and humiliation forgotten, Naruto grabbed the test and gasped at what he saw: not just a passing grade, a passing grade with a plus sign next to it. And a shimmery fish sticker along with the gold star, the kind usually reserved for model students like Sakura.

“She probably wanted to congratulate you,” Sasuke said.

Naruto sprung to his feet and, without thinking, grabbed both of Sasuke’s hands. Palms as soft as paintbrushes, long fingers gripping reflexively. Sasuke's feet mirrored his own as he spun them both in a circle, laughing. It didn’t even hurt when Naruto tripped on a shoelace and scraped his knee, Sasuke trying and failing to keep him from falling. Gravel stuck to his shins and he’d have to see the nurse, but the joy bubbling filling his chest with helium. His hard work paid off, Iruka was gonna be over the moon and- 

And his nose still dripped snot down his upper lip, his eyes still burned, and the test paper -proof of his proudest accomplishment- had a shoeprint along with the crumple marks. All of this in front of the coolest kid in class, who, instead of laughing or making fun of him, patiently held out a plastic water bottle with one hand and a handful of napkins in the other. Naruto wanted to hide his face again. He scrunched his nose, slower to stand up a second time, remembering all the other times Sasuke saw him do something stupid.

Like in math when Naruto blurted out the wrong answer with total confidence and the whole class burst out laughing. When he took a soccer ball to the face in gym class and ended up with a nosebleed. And when he showed up fifteen minutes late with his shirt on backwards, strawberry milk staining orange on his lemon-yellow jacket, and got sent to the principal’s office for a tardy pass. Or when Chouji loudly pointed out the toilet paper stuck to his shoe after a particularly grueling trip to the restroom. (Because he didn’t bother to read an expiration date, again.)

Worst of all, was the time Iruka came to school, face smudged with flour, apron still tied around his waist, to give Naruto his lunch. Clutching the brown paper bag as his dad said “I love you” in front of _ everyone,_ he had to say “I love you too” or the guilt would eat him alive. Sakura and Ino’s chorus of “aw” in the background dumped gasoline into the open flame, his ever-burning mortification. 

Every time, every single time, Sasuke would be there. Watching, stony and glacial all at once, as timeless and untouchable as those vampires from Sakura’s tacky middle-grade romance novels. And every time, Naruto squeezed his eyes shut, willing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Naruto was used to the world having front-row seats to the clown show that was his life. He didn’t want Sasuke to have tickets with the rest of them, though. He didn’t know how or why, just that it mattered. 

Now back on his feet, gathering his last scraps of dignity, Naruto held his hands out for what Sasuke offered and not up to cover his own stained, swollen face like he wanted to. He tried to talk twice, throat closed up from crying, only air coming out.

“I’m glad you’re okay now,” Sasuke spoke to save him the trouble, with a gentle honesty years beyond what even a high schooler could wield, “but even if you failed that stupid test, it’s just fifth grade. Kids are allowed to make mistakes.” 

Naruto wondered why it felt like Sasuke didn’t extend that same excuse to himself; why he seemed so careful not to leave a single “i” undotted or “t” uncrossed. Was this the ‘maturity’ that all the girls gushed about when they fawned over him? Naruto uncapped the bottle and took a sip. They were the same age, standing only two feet apart. Just like on the playground, after those bullies left and Sasuke offered his hand, endless distance stretched between them, as if they stood on opposite cliffs with a wide, deep valley in between. In class, he had spent hours staring at the set of Sasuke’s shoulders, the curve of his cheek as he turned to the classroom window watching blue jays and sparrows. 

No one else saw it, but Naruto knew all too well: Sasuke was lonely.

“Hey,” Naruto poured water on the paper towels and wiped his face. Deep breath, forging forward before courage abandoned him, he said, “I understand if you think I’m kind of... a loser, or weird or whatever but, um, I think you’re,” the coolest kid ever. Teach me your secret. No. Don’t say that. “like,” he fumbled, taking another sip and trying not to choke in every sense of the word. “I think you should be my friend.”

Now he was glad for the excuse of crying; the fresh wave of embarrassment would’ve turned his face beet-red all over again.

“Uh, if you want," he added, bouncing on his heels, feeling as electric as the lights in his brand-new Sketchers -the reason Iruka couldn’t afford a new backpack- and waited for Sasuke to laugh at him, or walk away, or maybe both. He needed to start tying his shoes properly. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” Sasuke said. 

“Really?” 

“Most of the time.” Sasuke shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Naruto took that as a yes, and must have been right, seeing as they remained friends to this day. He smiled sleepily at the memory, warmer than the sunlight pouring through the open window, turning his head. Sasuke was a tuft of black hair poking through the sheets, curled up near the wall while Naruto had inched closer to the other end of the queen-sized bed until his foot hung off the side. 

His world changed that day, growing and reshaping itself to make room for another person. Sakura had Ino, Shikamaru had Chouji, and Kiba had Akamaru. They were all his friends, but he never had a best friend before Sasuke. 

The same nerves that wracked him when he asked Sasuke to be his friend took over last night, when he tried to give Sasuke the stars. Not the real ones, but not the cheap plastic stickers from the ‘toy’ section either. In return, Sasuke gave Naruto the softest, slowest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Faint, like starlight, or the matching glimmer in Sasuke’s eyes. Breathtaking for all its subtle contradictions, purity and child-like wonder on a face that was always older than it should’ve been. Naruto stared wide-eyed, his own smile lost to pure wonder. He’d give anything to see his best friend look like that again. 

Rolling out of bed and shivering in the early morning light, he watched a sparrow poke her head in, chirp “good morning,” and flit away. The low harmony of a train horn, metal wheels rumbling over tracks, blended with the distant song of an ice cream truck. A bee buzzed in through the closed window to say hello, circle the room, and leave. Cheerios, Naruto thought. Honey-nut Cheerios. His stomach rumbled, Sasuke didn’t even stir, and Naruto steeled himself for his least favorite part of sleepovers: getting food from the Uchihas’ kitchen. 

He remembered running into Fugaku one morning. Offering a smile and receiving a grim, blank stare. He tried to strike up conversation, but was struck by silence. A slight nod, lips that twitched into a scowl, and then Fugaku’s glare turned to the ceiling in the general direction of Sasuke’s bedroom. Naruto suddenly felt guilty, for what, he didn’t know. He got the feeling that Sasuke would be in trouble because... Naruto squinted. He didn’t do anything wrong, but Fugaku didn’t seem like the type to care, like he’d take any excuse to get angry. 

Naruto didn’t want to risk another encounter. He waited on the second floor, spying through the railing while humming the Mission Impossible theme song. Target: Sasuke’s dad spotted at nine-oh-clock, time, not direction, because Naruto couldn't read clocks with hands. Target appeared irate as he checked his wristwatch, then stepped out and slammed the door shut. Still humming, Naruto walked quietly, trying to be quick without being clumsy. The cereal bowl trembled in his hand, threatening to spill as he tried to be invisible. Picking up a spoon with all the care of diffusing a live bomb; he didn’t want to make a single sound. Then, Sasuke’s mother came to the kitchen, and Naruto nearly jumped out of his skin. She smiled sweetly. They talked for a while. Through the strained threads of conversation, Naruto sensed something wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

Her eyes, though lovely and almond-shaped, a feature copy-pasted onto Sasuke down to the last eyelash, reminded him of black ice on concrete. The type people slipped on in winter because it was so hard to see. Broken backs from a single wrong step. The phone rang. Mikoto picked it up. Naruto plastered on a phony smile as he slowly backed away. He made it up the stairs, returned to Sasuke’s room, back sagging against the door behind him. Mission accomplished.

Sasuke was awake, hands laced behind his head and gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

“You’re talented,” he said, almost making Naruto drop his breakfast.

“What? Oh,” he looked up at the painted sky, “Thanks, I think it turned out pretty good too. Listen Sasuke, your family is, like, really weird. I mean, how can you stand it?”

Sasuke simply shrugged, mouth quirking in amusement despite the incredibly dire predicament. Naruto set the cereal down on the dresser and walked to the bed. He pulled Sasuke up, gripping his shoulders and looked him in the eye. Hoping to convey the gravity of the situation, he leaned in close and lowered his voice, “Iruka would totally adopt you. I love you, and he loves you, so we could be brothers. Itachi can come too if he wants.”

With a scoff and a roll of his shoulders, Sasuke brushed Naruto off in every sense of the word.

“No, thanks. And take it from someone who has a brother: our relationship is nothing like that.”

Ouch.

“You had a few brief awkward interactions with my parents. Stop overreacting. They love me just fine.”

Naruto wanted to believe him. Friends didn’t lie to each other, and Sasuke was the most honest person he knew. He sat cross-legged on the floor to eat his Cheerios. No point in pressing the matter, not when Sasuke put his poker face on. 

“What’s in that box?” Naruto asked instead; Sasuke had gotten up, and was now trying to open a long black briefcase on his desk. 

“I don’t know yet. It’s locked.”

Two quick raps on the door. Itachi poked his head in without waiting for an answer. 

“I’m going to Starbucks," he said, pushing long strands behind his ear, "What do you want?”

“The usual,” Sasuke replied, kneeling to peer at the lock, “and get Naruto one of those frozen strawberry things.”

“Sure, whatever,” Itachi snatched a nailpolish bottle off Sasuke’s dresser, “stay out of my room,” then vanished.

Sasuke perked up at that. Naruto listened to the garage door rumble open, wondering if Sasuke knew how expensive Starbucks was. Maybe money didn’t matter as much to people on the right side of the tracks, since they seemed to have more than enough. Sasuke turned to him with a smirk. 

“Let’s go to Itachi’s room.”

* * *

No posters, no dirty laundry, not even a bookshelf. Naruto let out a low whistle. If Sasuke’s room was clean, Itachi’s belonged to a hospital; utterly sterile. The only exception: a row of nailpolish on the computer desk. All in dark colors that Naruto could barely tell apart. Naruto picked up a bottle and shook it, admiring the gloss. He set it aside. Under the bed, that's where the mess must be. He crouched down to check. No soda cans, no tissues, not even a dust bunny. 

"Your brother has serious issues," Naruto said. 

Sasuke pulled the curtains aside, metal rings scraping against the silence. "I know, it runs in the family." Naruto pressed his lips together; he agreed, but that wound had enough salt. Sasuke slid open the closet door while Naruto searched the nightstand. Asprin, loose change, and a textbook in a shallow drawer, which he lifted and dropped to feel its weight. Heavy, as expected, but an unexpected hollow thump resounded in its wake. Sasuke continued sifting through Itachi's clothes, plastic hangers rattling like skeletons. Naruto emptied the drawer and knocked on the base. Definitely hollow. He traced the insides, thumb catching on an indent. Pushed down, yelping when the bottom of the drawer sprung up and hit his forehead. 

"What-"

"That's a false bottom where Itachi hides his secret diary."

Naruto flipped through the little black book. "Lots of weird numbers and symbols," he mused, turning it this way and that. None of it made sense.

Sasuke hummed as he rummaged through the laundry hamper. "I'll tell you if I ever find out what they mean," he said, turning pockets inside out. Gross, Naruto thought, when Sasuke tossed a pair of boxers aside, then dumped everything back in the closet. He sighed. "Not there, either. Help me lift the mattress."

Naruto strained under the memory foam while Sasuke reached under it, brows raising when he found what he was looking for. 

“What's that?”

“A lockpicking kit. He’s holding it for Deidara while he’s on probation,” Sasuke zipped the red leather pouch and shook it, contents jingling, “Apparently I’m the only one in this town without criminal tendencies.”

He glanced pointedly at Naruto, who tried his best innocent look, the one he used when Iruka caught him red-handed with the cookie jar right before dinner.

“-stop making that face. I know no one let you into my room. Breaking and entering is a serious offense.”

“Didn’t you literally go through Itachi’s stuff, like, two seconds after he left the house?”

“That’s different. I live here, and _we're_ actually brothers," he smirked at Naruto's pout, "C’mon, let’s get this case open.”

* * *

“I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck,” Sasuke hissed. 

“Sorry,” Naruto whispered, but didn’t move away. Sasuke picked two tools from the kit, holding one still in the keyhole and twisting the other. Ear turned towards the lock, listening. Naruto almost missed the faint click, but Sasuke noticed right away. He pressed the latches on either side of the buckle. The top lifted. Naruto gasped. 

“You gotta show me how to do that!”

“No.”

“But!”

Sasuke shushed him and opened the case, now illuminated in a sunlit rectangle. The treasure inside caught the light and shone gold on their faces.

“Whoa,” Naruto breathed, shielding his eyes.

“Why,” Sasuke said at the same time. 

The door opened and shut downstairs, startling them. Sasuke shut the case. Footsteps approached his room. The door knob turned.

“Shit, the lock picks!” Sasuke hissed, shoving the ones he used into the pouch. Naruto tossed it on the floor and kicked it under the bed right as Itachi opened the door.

“You went into my room."

“Uh,” Naruto gulped.

“No we didn't. Thanks for the drinks,” Sasuke took his iced black coffee, “You’re the best, Itachi.”

“Flattery only makes your guilt apparent, foolish little brother. Return what you took or I’ll tell Naruto about the time you-“

“Shut up,” Sasuke snapped. He set the drink aside to reach under the bed, “Fine, here, take it and go.”

“First, I require an apology.”

“I’m sorry for going into your room and looking through your stuff.” 

“... no you’re not. But one day, you will be. I’ll make sure of it. “ Oozing evil intent like a villain, the temperature dropped a few degrees in Itachi’s frigid wake. Naruto shivered. He did not care for whatever that was. Not one bit. 

“Okay, I take it back. Iruka will adopt you and Itachi is not invited. Also, that’s a really pretty guitar.”

“Violin.” Sasuke carefully took it out of the case. “Not sure what he expects me to do with this, but I might as well give it a shot.” He got to work, laptop open with about twenty tabs on YouTube, as he twisted the wooden knobs -

“They’re called pegs.”

-pegs on the violin. Magic violin, Naruto decided, when he remembered the glow it cast under the sun. He took another sip of the strawberries and cream frappe, already bouncing from a sugar high when his phone buzzed; Kiba texted him about a dead raccoon and some half-empty spray paint cans he found by a dumpster behind Seven-Eleven. Naruto read it out loud, then said, “We can use them to redecorate that old statue of the mayor. Give him lipstick, maybe some eyelashes or... a moustache. Hmm...”

“And the raccoon?” Sasuke asked.

“Dunno, it’s sad when animals die, but fun to poke things with sticks. So we’ll find a stick and, y’know. Poke it. Just for kicks. Also, Shino’s dad knows taxology, which sounds like he does taxes but actually means he knows how to turn roadkill into art. Maybe we can turn that raccoon into a hat, make sure it didn’t die for nothing.”

“Taxidermy.”

“That sounds like a skin doctor who drives a yellow car.”

“...you’re thinking of a dermatologist.” Sasuke corrected as he twisted another peg, plucked the string, and wrinkled his nose at the soft, melodic ping. Naruto thought it sounded pretty, like wind-chimes.

“No, it‘s terrible. Completely wrong. Listen.”

Sasuke played a short note on his laptop, plucked the string again, and Naruto shrugged because they sounded exactly the same. Then again, Sasuke noticed things no one else did, thoughts and senses sharper than a double-edged sword, cutting both ways. He saw too much and felt more than he’d ever let on. The hard set of his mouth as his jaw moved to chew inside his own cheek made Naruto worry. 

“Why don’t you put that thing down? Come hang out with us tonight. It’ll be fun.”

“Absolutely not. I need to get this right.” Naruto desperately wanted to ask _why_. “And you shouldn’t go around defacing government property.”

Naruto stuck his tongue out, Sasuke rolled his eyes, and they both knew that even free spray paint and a dead raccoon weren’t enough to lure Naruto away from this rare, peaceful summer afternoon. Not yet, anyway. He took another sugary sip as he walked towards Sasuke's bookshelf, and the day went on.

The rustling leaves in the garden crackled like fire, gentle enough to flicker across skin. Warm, yet safe to the touch. Sasuke read a lot, and kept a full bookshelf that almost touched the ceiling. Naruto couldn’t reach the top two levels. He had a nagging suspicion that Sasuke kept whatever he didn’t want Naruto to see up there, out of reach by design. Naruto flipped through one book after another, eyes catching on stray words, mind lost in the maze of sentences. He read aloud now and then, sometimes stumbling on purpose just so Sasuke would smile softly and tell him to try again. When Naruto cleared the middle shelf, he stacked them into a makeshift table. Fingers itching to draw a picture, but no paper or pencil in sight.

“Left desk drawer,” Sasuke said without looking up. “Your other left.”

Three yellow no.2’s sharpened to a perfect point lay parallel to a graph paper pad, arranged with perfect precision.

“Neat freak,” Naruto teased in a sing-song voice.

Sasuke did look up at that, then glanced around his own room as if seeing it through new eyes.

“Everyone else thinks I live in a ‘pig sty,’ so I’ll take the compliment.”

Naruto wanted to ask who ‘everyone else’ was, but he already knew the answer. He sat cross-legged and tapped the eraser against his cheek. Outside the window, still open, a summer breeze heavy with humidity. Inside, the sky he painted; a piece of outer space, the final frontier, along with his best friend with eyes as black as the void between stars. Moments such as these filled him up with a very specific feeling; Naruto wanted to see more, do more, know more about this life he was still new to and the boy who longed for the stars because he came from them. He wanted trap time in a bottle, though he knew the future brimmed like an ocean he could scarcely wait to dive into, empty margins waiting for his hand to etch with bold lines and bright colors.

He put pencil to paper, glancing up for reference mixing reality with memory and pure imagination. Time passed too quickly inside their little pocket of the universe. When Naruto looked up again, amber light cast long shadows, a sunburst fragment stretching across the oakwood floor. His phone buzzed again on the bed where he left it. Sasuke tapped the cracked screen, face illuminated by the notification.

“Did you tell Iruka where you were going before disappearing for almost two days straight?”

“Who?” Distracted, Naruto scrubbed out a stray line and sketched another.

“Your father.”

“He’s not my father, he’s my dad and- oh shit! Shit, Sasuke, he’s gonna kill me. I gotta go, sorry, let’s hang out later.” Naruto knocked over the books he stacked and barely remembered to take his drawing with him.

“Hey, get your phone!”

He doubled back, fumbling at Sasuke’s outstretched hand. 

“Listen Sasuke,” words spilled out before his thoughts caught up, “if you ever wanna run away, come to my place.” Another notification cut off whatever Sasuke wanted to say. Naruto zipped out his room, down the hall, falling down the last couple of stairs and using the momentum to slingshot past Itachi, nearly tripping around the blond guy on the other side. “Sorry, thank you!” Naruto shouted back, already halfway down the street.

* * *

Iruka grounded Naruto for three whole days, seventy-two hours crawling slower than the slugs in Sakura’s backyard. After that, time sprung forward in leaps and bounds.

Like all good things, another summer came to an end, a flipbook of video games and sleep overs. 

It slipped through Naruto’s fingers faster than any summer before it; playing tag in the forest, filling up the rest of his sketchbook, searching for old man Sarutobi’s fabled treasure near the creek with his friends. They didn’t find the treasure, though Hinata stumbled across a strange cottage, frosted roof with candy stripes and gumdrop jewels studding the windows. An even stranger woman lived inside. She extended an open invitation to all children roaming the woods. Hinata took them down a narrow dirt trail to a clearing. No gingerbread house in sight. Naruto wondered if she missed a turn, or maybe fell asleep hungry and had a food dream. They left empty-handed, no gold or candy to show for the questing. Naruto didn’t mind. He slowed down to walk beside Hinata, put a hand on her shoulder, and told her that he’d treasure the memories forever.

“But do you believe me?”

He turned back to the clearing, smaller than he remembered. Air shimmered like it would under a high noon heat although it was actually twilight. A cool breeze made the leaves whisper in a language he almost understood. Naruto shivered. Crows cawed overhead, invisible in the growing shadows, a clear warning. 

“Yeah, I believe you.”

She offered a shy smile, but Naruto’s eyes stuck to the distance. 

“Naruto-“

“Hurry up, slowpokes!” Kiba called, standing on a fallen log. 

“We’re coming,” Naruto shouted, taking Hinata’s hand and tugging; pace hurried, sticks crunching under their feet while his sneakers lit the way. He let go once the clearing disappeared completely and spoke in a low voice, “Hinata, don’t go off on your own again. If you see anything strange in these woods, run the other way.”

She nodded, he offered a nervous chuckle, and they never spoke of it again. 

Mid-August, Naruto managed to sneak out and test the spray paint Kiba found, trying his hand at graffiti under an overpass. Hit a rush that rivaled the time he climbed a tree with Sasuke and sat side by side on the same branch above the forest canopy, high enough to glimpse the city skyline. His heartbeat crackled, shooting up and up, a firework bursting in the night. The paint fumes only added to the thrill, the high, but his hands remained steady, like he was born to do this.

“You’re talented.” Sasuke’s simple compliment echoed every time Naruto made something new, urging him to do better. 

The whole world was his canvas, just waiting for him to leave his mark. So many possibilities, Naruto stood paralyzed until a truck honked above him, rattling the road as it drove overhead. His first graffiti dripped orange, yellow and red like the fire in his blood, a new sun breaking over a new horizon. 

Two words: “believe it.” Painted under a faint new moon, with fireflies and white moths cheering in the audience. He could almost hear the clapping through their wingbeats.He snapped a picture. Under the flash, like all his art, it had turned out better than expected. Naruto snuck back into his room, and spent the night admiring the stains on his fingers; destiny marking his skin, promising he’d only get better from here. One day. Palms outstretched towards the ceiling, hair on his pillow still damp from sweat. He wrapped his fingers around fate’s crimson threads. One day, he’d discover what he really needed to say, and paint it on the train cars; words to reach the whole nation. Naruto closed his eyes and dreamt of just that. 

He never wanted summer to end.

But with each passing day, school loomed heavily over his precious freedom, waiting like a guillotine poised to drop. Cutting off summer on a date circled in blood red sharpie. Soon he’d be confined to those grey walls, cobalt lockers, and speckled floors. Teachers, homework, a normal bedtime. But even that dark cloud carried a silver lining: ever day, the gap between twelve and thirteen shrunk. Sasuke was ahead of him now, as he was for the same three months every year, but come October, Naruto would finally catch up.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mood: writing recklessly at a ridiculous pace, genuinely terrified that the world will literally end before i get a chance to finish these fics. (ya'll know the world is ending, right??) wbu
> 
> also yes, Naruto can't read analog clocks and that is 100% canon

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this since may and im not sure what it's going to turn into.
> 
> Tell me what you think?


End file.
